James C. Hartsell
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Jim Hartsell - I shall miss you poet friend and all the words that flowed effortlessly from your pen. We are so blessed that you left your words of dreams, the beauty in everyday things here with us to read and treasure. In doing so you left a poetic path we can always walk together.
Words For A Poet
when I walk the last mile let meadows of wildflowers blossom
let there be birds singing in chorus--
I do not know when it began this yearning to gather stars.
Your yearning to gather stars happened today
"while the meadows of wildflowers blossom
while the birds sing in chorus".
Today while spring sings its song
you walk along a new path.
You can never go too far that we won't hear your words.
They shall always sing in every day in everything.
Here, where we all found each other poet sisters and brothers
we shall trust tears to heal until we gather again.
You leave us a harvest bowl
full and overflowing
a voice still heard above the noise of this world.
Today heaven's gained a poets soul.
© 2010 Doris Swearingen
Mountain Man/Meadow Man
Snow-capped rumbling mountain
aboil with the fires of poetry.
now and again to grace the sky.
© 2010 Gene Dixon
Since 2000, I have had the pleasure of knowing Wintersong (Jim) and reading his wonderful poetry. He was extremely insightful and saw wisdom in nature as well as the common details of everday life. He was also a good friend and caring person. He contributed to all boards with his devotion to poetry and his respect for the writers he worked and interacted with. This news of his passing is very sad and I express my best wishes, respect and condolences toward his family and friends.
Below is a small poem I have written which commemorates this wonderful poet's view of nature, children and life. It was based on one of my favorite poems by Jim called, "Hungers". His creative spirit and kindness will endure, through our memories and the timeless echo of his words.
The Poet and the Artist
(A poem that reminds me of Jim...)
Still those frozen eyes of marble held their tear filled signs of life
While the painted fragrance of a smile dried on the palette knife,
Still the sky held many signatures, and many more designs
For art is merely poetry that paints between the lines,
And for every landscape painted, there are words that paint the view
As each watercolour whisper drifts mesmerically through
Every goose quilled reminiscence of its painted parchment fire,
For the poet and the artist are reflections of desire.
Inspiration is a chalice that can make your spirit glow
For it feeds you with what you can see, and not just what you know,
Although sunsets and sunrises can be jewels of the hour
There are diamonds hidden in each droplet taken from a shower,
And sometimes all the smallest things can totally beguile
A far off birdsong symphony, or just an infants smile,
For artists see with many eyes, and poets with many more
From distant dreams to ocean gleams upon a far off shore.
Though life’s constant tribulations can be wearying to bare
We can still unite in visions of those things we need to share,
For colour, creed or country mean so little in the end
We are tied together in the words and paintings that we send,
No matter how the painting goes, nor how the words entwine
Poetry and art will always beauteously combine,
And whether expert or beginner, every work has equal worth
To each poet and each artist, like the act of giving birth…
© 2010 backstreetdreamer
For the family of Wintersong, Jim.
In any instruction about writing, we are always reminded to 'show, not tell'. It is very similar to how, in life, we are encouraged to 'walk it, not talk it'.
Show, Not Tell
As Wintersong knew well,
words are the window to the soul,
the home where one’s essence dwells,
the place where immortals stroll.
Sadness has never been spoken
as deeply as it is felt.
Words are a mere token
of what has been dealt.
Joy is found in the memory
of the life lived well,
in the courage used to face life’s emery,
in a life of show, not tell.
Such is our Warm Memory of Wintersong, Jim.
© 2010 Wayne WID
The Hour's Gathering
A hunger far stronger
Than the thirst to romp
in the evening dew
A bell rings at twilight
calling the children in
Bread and onion soup
warm the table
along with a lamp
and some daffodils.
Napkins are folded
waiting for small hands
to unwrap their cloth
and secret prayers
Tonight, the young will pray
for the poet who penned
their lives in his journal,
who left their shadows
exploring the river bank.
Tonight, they will remember
how he voiced their joy
on a fish hook, a heron's wing
dipping into sky or water.
So much of his song
was their song.
A bell rings at twilight
as hills snuff out the sun;
and we feel Winter
into those early scenes of Spring.
All my best,
© 2010 Gwendrina
The loss of one poet anywhere diminishes all poets everywhere. Missed he will be. My sincerest condolences.
© 2010 Namyh .
tribute to the poet Wintersong
nature is best felt in scenes of deep-rooted fleeting-free
© 2010 dan -
For Wintersong from a reading of the poet
There is a scheme
to believe in dreams
to be a sail that catches the wind
but when a sailor does come home
to lovely hearth and home
he'll take great heed to bless
a rainbow's glory,
the gold of home, and
he is blessed
like a winter song
that's heard by fire place,
sung by friends and all loved ones, a
sadness lifted by heaven's choir
fragrances from the park
the grass on bended knee
gold of setting sun
the poet's come home.
© 2010 Douglas Gilbert
Which is your twinkle
among the evening stars,
the spirit who looks back
to where we are,
observing our struggle
of each new day.
We know you utter
an encouraging word,
your poet's soul although afar,
and akin with ours.
Though deeply sad,
that you are not here
we are happy for peace
which now surrounds you
in that hemisphere,
which for a brief time,
whom you hold dear.
© 2010 Jean M. Lewis
a nature cinquain for Jim
thought more than air;
memories breathe starlight...
universal. writ upon sky
© 2010 dan
Warm winds breathed
your name today.
I stopped to take in
such a soft breeze.
Flower petals swayed
in your memory.
Trees stood stately
in your honor.
begging me to notice
strokes of prettiest pastels
and beaming bolds.
Yellow rose fragrances
invited me to retrace tracks,
to fall graciously into
My heart takes it all in,
wraps it snugly around you,
In the gift of this day my soul
has no choice but to rejoice.
© 2010 Jantanleo
Sad is not big enough to describe the loss
If I could breathe life into it, I would.
But I watch the vine swing silently without a rhyme
Wasted words spilt sideways on the floor
a boom of laughter paints the wall
cold chill of never stands nearby.
Perhaps pain and suffering makes us eager to find Heaven?
all the while
we wonder where the years have flown
and why we can't sprout wings to travel with them
or catch a breeze and soar above life's rain...
instead we drown in fear to find redemption
time never waits for us to understand
Dearly departed, but not forgotten
because volumes of you will always be
my muse, mentor, friend & inspiration
rest in God's perfect peace.
© 2010 January Grey
And to his family, my heartfelt sympathy, JG